Dragoncrest Cliffs if i tell my bones they're a cage

Pipit was aware that she was traveling in circles around the coast, having yet to find anyone who had heard of any Redleafs in the area; having found no one to point her in the direction of Neverwinter. She mentally flailed at herself, feeling like a poor tracker and a sorry wolf to boot, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that finding her brother was simply not a task so easily taken on after all this time. By this point it would've been better for her to assume that she'd never find him; and if she could somehow manage to, the surprise of it would be all the more sweet.

She kept near the sea. Its impressiveness soothed her— disillusioned her into believing she might could harness its strength within herself— and if she kept moving, the freezing air did not sway her. At night the world seemed to become almost unbearably cold, reminding her deeply that she needed sanctuary with others if she meant to survive, but so far she had only crossed the paths of the homeless; too much like herself to help her on that front.

Her trotting paws took her towards the cliffs, following the scent of someone she didn't recognize, but with the hope that she might find help regardless. At a distance she thought she was marching straight towards a familiar body, the wolf with the crab, but the nearer she came, the more differences she began to notice about him. Before the stranger could disappear further into the jagged crags and dusted snow, Pipit called out to him with a low, lilting yip.